


Sunup

by Chaifootsteps



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Cozy morning talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Just a small gentle fic., M/M, Offscreen tomfoolery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaifootsteps/pseuds/Chaifootsteps
Summary: “What would you do,” asks skekEkt, sleepy and quiet, “if we'd never met?”
Relationships: skekAyuk/skekEkt (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Sunup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryanglitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanglitter/gifts).



> For my wonderful, fabulous, and talented friend, Ryan. <3

“What would you do,” asks skekEkt, sleepy and quiet, “if we'd never met?”

SkekAyuk is perplexed. Not _bothered,_ mind...they often speak this way, when sleep is hard to come by and the light that fills their room is still soft and blue.

“What do you mean? If you were a Gelfling and I was a Sogbird? If we lived together, but never gave each other a second thought? ”

“More like...if there had been 17 of us at the beginning.”

SkekAyuk is grateful for this. As little as he cares to entertain the thought of a world without skekEkt, he's even less keen to envision one where they exist together, but mean nothing to one another. He cards his talons through skekEkt's messy red locks, holds him just that slightest bit closer to his heart, and thinks.

“I suppose I would live a colder, duller life. I would do _alright_...I would still have my cooking, and I would enjoy it, but where's the fun in creating something if there's no one else around who understands or even properly appreciates what creating something means? What's the fun of tasting something new if it's not with you? I'd be a step above a common Podling, only existing to stir pots and serve.”

SkekEkt chuckles, quietly. “So dramatic, my dear...they're not _that_ crude and piggish.”

“SkekEkt.”

“Alright, so they're exactly that crude and piggish. But you would still _have them_. You'd have skekOk and skekLi to commiserate with. Perhaps you'd take up with someone and make them see the beauty in what you do, and you'd live happily ever after.”

SkekAyuk huffs at the very idea. “Well, of course, if I were anyone _else_. But I was born to love you. In a thousand futures, a thousand lifetimes on a thousand worlds, I would love you.”

SkekEkt utters a soft squawk and bats him ineffectually on the shoulder while also snuggling deeper into his neck, the way he can only ever manage when they're not standing side by side. Like he always does when skekAyuk lays it on thick, but wholly sincere.

“And what about you? Where would you be if things had gone differently?”

“Oh, I would have bedded skekSil.”

“...Well, that was fast.”

“You know I don't mean it like that!”

“I do, but just the same!”

“Anyhow, perhaps I'm giving myself too little credit. Maybe not skekSil. Maybe I would have gotten very fortunate and been able to edge in with skekMal and the Emperor--”

“Oh, love, this isn't helping,” skekAyuk chortles.

SkekEkt nibbles the underside of his beak, significantly more awake now that they're both off and laughing. “But think about it. You know how ravenous I was to be seen, cherished, for it all to _matter._ SkekSil would have come along, this composer of sublime melodies, told me what I wanted to hear and maybe even meant it, and I would have fallen for it utterly. But you know it would never have lasted. It would all have ended in terrible regret.”

“It might have lasted,” skekAyuk considers. “If anything could have brought out the best in skekSil, it would have been your love.”

“SkekSil's one and only undying love is his status. He threw _music_ aside for the pursuit of it. I would have had no chance.” SkekAyuk automatically holds him tighter, the thought of skekEkt mistreated and neglected by anyone's hand, watching any first love of his drifting further away is so vile, he wishes he could purge it from his mind, like a tin of something gone to mold. And skekEkt knows him; entwines their tails and leans his long, tall weight into skekAyuk's, solid and present and real. “And then I may have left the castle. Summered with the Vapra, or maybe even taken up with the Sifa...I don't know. But never at any point would I be happy the way I am with you. Never _complete_ the way I am with you.”

And oh, there it _is._ It's always been just for both of them, the emphasis on that word...a way of reclaiming it from skekGra, who took it and made it ugly and wrong. If the Heretic ever lays in bed in the early morning and talks with his Mystic, it's only ever to discuss how badly they want a future where they can never look one another in the eyes ever again, and force it on everyone else, but what a mercy that that's not himself and skekEkt, who've figured out the puzzle, the key to the door. SkekAyuk's heart quickens and warms, and he can't not press his beak to skekEkt's.

“By Thra, skekEkt,” he whispers. “Eternity with you is nowhere near long enough.”

SkekEkt coos against his skin. “But isn't it wonderful to have it ahead of us, just the same?”

They're both wide awake now, and the birds are awakening from their perches along windowsills, in gaps in the stone, the forest below, setting up a racket. SkekEkt toys with a (tight, immaculate) seam along the silken shoulder of skekAyuk's night clothes.

“Will you be off to supervise breakfast soon?”

“It can wait.”

SkekEkt keens in gentle dismay. Not that he doesn't _enjoy_ knowing skekAyuk's culinary perfectionism has never stood anything resembling a chance of competing with him...he just hates feeling as though he's trivialized it. He always has. “I'm sorry I woke you.”

“I was already awake.”

“Well, then I'm sorry I kept you up.”

“I'm not.”

“I'm a wretched and villainous influence. It will be my fault if the entire lordship fades away from starvation.”

SkekAyuk chuckles.

“Do you remember when we were young? _Very_ young? And you took it upon yourself to ensure that I never, _never_ made it to the kitchens on time?” And of course skekEkt does – no amount of blue morning light can hide the blush that colors his face, but skekAyuk brushes a hand across the base of his tail, just for casual emphasis. “You were on me like a beetle on a skull, crawlie dumpling. I didn't stand a chance.”

SkekEkt smiles up at him with those big, soft, impossibly gorgeous eyes skekAyuk will always be helpless against. “I would be on you like one now if I weren't so content to simply lay here with you. That's alright, isn't it?”

SkekAyuk breathes in his tangled hair; the smell of flowers from last night's bath, the clean starch of his pillow. The warmth of his skin. The little miracle of him.

“Always.”

***

They make it just shy of an hour before their night clothes are on the floor.

SkekAyuk makes it to the kitchens as the Podlings are stacking breakfast onto the carts, points out their numerous mistakes, and applies corrections, all in the same staggered breath.

The Nebrie sausage is, of course, as delectable as ever.


End file.
